


The Maze Runner /Newtmas Edition/

by Steampunklouis



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner RPF, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner, newtmas - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Newt, Canon Gay Character, Fluff, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Post-The Maze Runner, Smut, Sub Newt, The Maze Runner - Freeform, newtmas - Freeform, top Thomas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunklouis/pseuds/Steampunklouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's The Maze Runner series only it's Newtmas af. They are the main head cannon relationship. Ive changed some things around and also have taken stuff from the movie to make this work. </p><p>I do not own The Maze Runner or it's characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air.

Metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor beneath him. He fell down at the sudden movement and shuffled backwards on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. His back struck a hard metal wall; he slid along it until he hit the corner of the room. Sinking to the floor, He pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness.

With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft.

Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like workings of an ancient steal factory, echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth as it ascended, turning the boys stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded his senses, making him feel worse. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone, waiting.

My name is Thomas, he thought.  
That...that was the only thing he could remember about his life. He didn't understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surroundings and predicament. Knowledge flooded his thoughts, fact and images, memories and details of the world and how it worked, he pictures snow on trees, running through a leaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow in a grassy meadow, swimming in a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.

And yet he didn't know where he came from, or how he'd gotten inside the dark lift, or where his parents were. He didn't even know his last name. Images of people flashed across his mind, but there was no recognition, their faces replaced with haunted smears of color. He couldn't think of one person he knew, or recall a single conversation.

The room continued its ascent, swaying; Thomas grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled him upward. A long time passed. Minuets stretched into hours, although it was impossible to know for sure because ever second seemed an eternity. No. He was smarter than that. Trusting his instincts, he knew he'd been moving for roughly half an hour.

Strangely enough, he felt his fear whisked away like a swarm of gnats caught in the wind, replaced by an instance curiosity. He wanted to know where he was and what was happening.

With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted Thomas from his huddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the room sway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.

A minuet passed. Two. He looked in ever direction but sees only darkness; he felt along the walls again, searching for a way out. But there was nothing, only the cool metal. He groaned in frustration; his echo amplified through the air, like the haunted moan of death. It faded, and silence returned. He screamed, called for help, pounded on the walls with his fists.

Nothing.

Thomas backed into the corner once again, folded his arms and shivered, and the fear returned. He felt a worrying shudder in his chest, as if his heart wanted to escape, to flee his body.

"Someone....help...me!" He screamed; each work ripped his throat raw.

A loud clank rang out above him and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up: a straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands.

-Newt-

Newt woke up that morning and prepared to live it like every other damned day in this Glade. He woke up a little earlier than everyone else, that was part of his job, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. He rolled over in his sleeping bag, shifting to find a comfortable position on the hard ground and groaned when he failed to find one. He cracked his eyes open and peaked out at the world, the sun barely up, making the sky a light pink color. He looked from the sky over at the person sleeping next to him. His friend Minho. Minho was completely asleep, looking as relaxed as ever. He made it seem like the ground was the most comfortable mattress that had ever made. You think after being here so long, Newt would be used to the hard ground; to the soft grass and the rocks and the bugs, but he wasn't. In fact, each night he finds it harder and harder to fall asleep. He blames this on the fact that he can't shut his mind off. It races with millions of thoughts and he can't seem to quiet it down long enough to fall asleep. It's not his fault really, if someone would just answer his damn questions and actually figure out a plan to get them out of here instead of just running the maze every stinking day. Newt takes a deep breath and shoves those thought to the back of his head. No. He knows that's the wrong way to think. They're here, they're alive, Alby is doing all he can to make sure of that. He takes a few more deep breathes before he finally shuffles his way quietly out of his sleeping bag, rolling it up firmly to carry it to the Homestead for storing. As he walks by, he makes sure not to step on anyone sleeping in the field. It's hard when quite a few body's are cuddled together.

Newt works in the farms. He's been told by more than just Alby that he's the best farmer they have, and it's true. If it weren't for Newt, they wouldn't have half as much produce that they get every week or so. It's Newt's job to rake the fields, water the plants, build structures or supports when it comes to climbing and tall, thin trees and crops. Newt does it all. The majority of his day is spent in the fields with his crops. He doesn't mind it. It's work. He's good at, it's what he's done every day for the last three years. Sure, he isn't the only one who has this job, but he is the best and he likes it done his way.

It's well into the morning, the others already up and doing there jobs. Minho has left into the maze and Newt secretly wishes he could go too. As he digs rows into the freshly plowed soil with his hoe, he looks down at his leg, feeling the way it aches as he bends at just the right angle. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, raising his cloth covered wrist to wipe the sweat off his forehead.  
"Get a loud of that." One of the boys who works in the field says to Newt. Newt looks up at him and the boy nods at what he was referring to. Newt turns his head the other way to see Gally on the other side of the Glade, jogging quickly into the Homestead. Newt half chuckles; half scoffs when Gally makes his way into the house.  
"It's a bit early innit'?" He says to the boy next to him, turning back to his work.  
"I don't know. Maybe Alby's in one of his moods."  
Newt shakes his head.  
"It is that time of the month." He jokes and the boy beside him chuckles and nods.  
It's not odd when you think about it, for a few of the lads to be gay. It's been years for them, and they're in those years where they start having thoughts and feelings. None of them even know what it's like to be with a girl, for them, this is normal. A few of them are even in domestic relationships, fully staying with just one other person. But then you have ones like Alby and Gally who like to sneak off for a quickie at least once a day. Newt doesn't get it to be honest. Why Gally? No, he isnt jealous in the least, it's just that to him, it makes no sense. Gally is a douche. Alby could've picked someone much more suitable for...well, whatever job that is. And to Newt, they just aren't a match. It almost makes him shudder just thinking about it.  
"That time of the month." The boy repeats, still laughing at Newts very well exactitude joke. Newt looks over at him and laughs too and just like it was a que, the metal against metal sound of the Box raising from its dark shaft started.

Newt and the boy looked at each other and dropped their tools instantly, running along with the other boys of the Glade to see who would be there new friend this month. Newt is one of the first to get there, standing alongside Alby who looks a little disheveled; like he dropped something very important just to run over here.  
"Did the Box interrupt you?" Newt jokes and gets a stare from both Alby and Gally.  
"It's a joke mate." He says and shrugs.  
"This isn't joking time, Newt." Alby says and the box opens.

It's another boy, amongst other supplies.

He's laying on the ground of the lift, squinting his eyes tightly and Newt has a flash back to when he first arrived at the Glade. It was only him and Alby then, but it wasn't that much different to this.

All the boys start picking fun at the lad in the Box, calling him a shank and a piece of klunk. If you ask Newt, it's all very rude and unnecessary. This kid will know nothing just like the rest, but that's what makes him annoying to the rest of the boys. The boys eyes must come into focus because he starts staring at each boy individually. His eyes meet Newt's and they linger not even a second before he's looking at someone else's. Alby moves to lower a rope down and the boy doesn't think twice, grabbing it and holding on tightly. All the boys line up after Alby and grab the rope, heaving the boy out of the cool dark box. Newt, being right behind Alby, reaches down for the boys hand and the boy takes it, letting Newt pull him out of the Box and onto the stone. Newt stays quiet, not knowing what to say to him anyway. Getting a new Glader is exciting, but truly annoying for the first week or so. All they do is cry and complain and want to go home. They're pretty much useless up until they realize this is their home now. That this is where they are stuck. They just did it with Chuckie, now they'll have to do it with this shank as well.

Alby stoop up to the boy first and nodded at him.  
"Nice to meet you shank. Welcome to the Glade."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter two

-Newt-

All the boys helped the newbie up onto his feet. Newt watched as he brushed the dirt off his shirt and hands. He staggered a bit and Newt repressed the urge to step up to the boy and steady him. He lifted his head up and looked spastically around, taking it all in. 

He rotated in slow circles, the boys behind Newt snickered at him and made stupid jokes. One even poked him and Newt rolled his eyes. The kid looked the boys over once again, meeting Newt's eyes again for a split second. He looked...not terrified...just confused. And a little sickly. 

He looked past the boys to the fields of the Glade, up at the walls that stand high above the boys and their make shift home. He looked at the openings in the walls, the passages and his eyebrows furrowed.   
"Look at the Greenbean," Gally said.   
"Gonna break his neck checkin' out the new digs."   
His joke made several of the boys behind Newt laugh and Alby shot Gally a look.   
"Shut your hole, Gally." He said, eyeing the bully. 

Newt watches as the kid looked over the boys for a third time. When they first started arriving, Newt felt like an animal in a zoo when the Greenbeans would eye them over. He's well used to that now and just stands still as the panicked kid stares at them. The boy's eyes meet Newt's again but this time they linger for a few seconds, staring in deeply for only a second before his eyes shoot away and he's looking at Chuck, than Minho, than Alby. 

"Where I am?" The boy asked and Newt is startled by his voice.   
"Nowhere good." Alby answers him.   
"Just slim yourself nice and calm."   
"Which Keeper he gonna get?" Someone behind Newt asked and he recognizes the voice of the boy he was farming with just a few short minutes ago.   
"I told ya, shuck-face," Gally starts and Newt wants to groan and cover his ears to stop himself from hearing the rest of this sentence.   
"He's a klunk, so he'll be a Slopper- no doubt about it."   
Gally laughs at his own joke and Newt once again questions Alby's judgment when it came to picking a sex partner. 

The kid looks at Gally like he didn't get a word of what he said, and he probably didn't. The Gladers use their own language and it's not up to them to explain it, it's up to the Greenbean's to learn it. Different emotions passed over the new boy's face faster than Newt could guess what they are. Newt's eyes don't leave him though, he watches intently at every move, every breath. 

Gally continues to make his off-handed comments at the boy and Newt is about to snap when Alby finally says something.   
"I said shut your holes!" He yells.   
"Keep tapping and next break'll be cut in half!" 

The Newbie's cheeks flush just slightly, almost like he's embarrassed, and he starts staring into the Glade again. He turns his head and looks at each corner curiously, studding whatever lies there. 

He does a full, slow circle before he turns back to the boy of the Glade. His eyes land on Gally and he almost looks startled. He watches Gally as he takes a few steps to sit on the makeshift bench. The second Gally looks back up at him, the kid looks away. 

Alby steps up to the boy and sighs.   
"It's a long story, shank. Piece by piece, you'll learn- I'll be takin' you on the Tour tomorrow. Till then... Just don't break anything." Alby sticks his hand out to introduce himself.   
"Name's Alby." 

The kid just turns away from Alby, walking to the tree a few feet away and plopping himself down against it.   
"Tell me then." The boy responds and Newt again is startled by his voice.   
"Tell me the long story." 

Newt can tell that annoys Alby. He huffs and rolls his eyes, but it amuses Newt. Usually by this point, the boy should've run away crying. He wouldn't even be close to asking for the full story yet. There are steps that are usually taken, phases the Newbies go through. 'Scared shitless' is where this kid should be, but he's totally skipped straight to the 'wanting the answers' step. Newt likes that. It's been awhile since they've gotten one like that. 

But as quickly as the boys bravery came, it sank away. You could hear it in his voice when he asked, "Seriously, where am I?"  
Alby walked over and sat down on the ground across from him. All of the Gladers followed and sat in a semi-circle behind Alby, Newt being dead in front. Newt could feel someone pushing in on his back, the boys behind him shoving together closely to get as good a view as possible. 

Alby takes a breath before he starts.  
"If you ain't scared, you ain't human. Act any different and I'd throw you off the Cliff because it'd mean you're a psycho."  
A mix of fear and confused erupts across the kids face.   
"The Cliff?"   
"Shuck it, ain't no way to start these conversations, you get me? We don't kill shanks like you here, I promise. Just try to avoid being killed, survive, whatever." 

The kid's face doesn't change. If anything, it depends with even more confusion and fear.   
"Man," Alby runs his hands through his hair, exasperated. "I ain't good at this- you're the first Greenbean since Nick was kill."

The kid's face whitens even more which seemed impossible. He looked petrified and that's when Newt knew he needed to take over. He playfully smacked Alby across the head.  
"Wait for the bloody Tour, Alby. Kid's gonna have a buggin' heart attack, nothin' even been heard yet." Newt moved towards the boy and reached a hand out.   
"Name's Newt, Greenie, and we'd all be right cheery if ya'd forgive our klunk-for-brains new leader, here."

Newt smiled at the kid and watched as he seemed to relax a bit. He reached his hand towards Newt's and then they touched, they shook hands firmly, Newt's genuine smile never fading. 

"Pipe it shuck-face." Newt feels Alby grab him by the shoulder and yank him back down to the ground to sit next to him.   
"At least he can understand half my words."   
A few of the boys laugh at that and Newt shoots Alby a look."   
"Oi! Not my fault." He mumbles to himself. 

The boys stop their laughter and scoot in impossibly closer, wanting to see what exactly Alby will say to the new boy.   
"This place is called the Galde, all right?" Alby gestures to the fields before them. "It's where we live, where we eat, where we sleep- we call ourselves Gladers. That's all   
you-"  
"Who sent me here?" The kid interrupts and sometime during Alby's explanation of the Glade, the kid had turned angry.   
"How'd-"

Alby's hands shot out and gripped the kids t-shirt, stopping him from saying anything further.   
"Get up, shank, get up!" Alby grumbles and stands to his feet, pulling the Greenie with him. The kid rushes to his feet in time for Alby to push him hard against the tree.   
"No interruptions, boy! Whacker, if we told you everything, you'd die on the spot, right after you klunked your pants. Beggars'd drag you off, and you ain't no food to us then, are ya?"

Newt's eyes widened and he quickly grabbed Alby's shoulder.   
"Alby, lay off a bit. You're hurtin' more than helpin', ya know?"  
Newt watched as Alby took a deep breath then let go of the Greenie's shirt, taking a step back.   
"Ain't got time to be nice, Greenbean. Old life's over, new life's begun. Learn the rules quick, listen, don't talk. You get me?" 

The kids faces paled and he looked at Newt as if he was lost. Newt felt a little knot form in his stomach when the kid looked at him. Newt nodded at the boy, "Greenie, you get him, right?"   
The boy looks angry again and Newt almost thinks he'll throw a punch at Alby, but all he does is huff out, "Yeah."

"Good that." Alby says. "First day. That's what today is for you, shank. Nights comin', Runners'll be back soon. The Box came late today, ain't got time for the Tour. Tomorrow morning, right after the wake-up."   
Alby turns to Newt."  
"Get him a bed, get him to sleep."  
Newt nods, "Good that." 

Alby turns back to the new kid, "a few weeks, you'll be happy, shank. You'll be happy and helpin'. None of us knew jack on our First Day, you neither. New life begins tomorrow." 

Alby turns away from him then, making his way back to the Homestead. A lot of the other boys disperse after that, going off to get food or gather sleeping bags. Newt stays behind with the new kid, who now looked so depressing, it made Newt's heart hurt a little. 

"What did I do?" The kid whispered. "What did I- why'd they send me here?"  
Newt places his hand on the Greenie's shoulder, feeling bad for the guy.  
"Greenie, what you're feelin', we've all felt it. We've all had First Day, come out of the dark box. Things are bad, they are, and they'll get much worse for ya soon, that's the truth. But down the road a piece, you'll be fightin' true and good. I can tell you're not a bloody sissy."   
"Is this a prison?" The kid asks and Newt sighs.  
"Done asked four questions, haven't ya? No good answers for ya, not yet, anyway. Best be quiet now, accept the change- morn comes tomorrow."

The boy didn't say anything but his head did sink down into his shoulders. He looked helpless and Newt knows exactly how he feels. Newt bends down so he's in the boys line of sight, catching his attention.  
"It gets better, I swear it. Come on, let's get you a bed before all the good ones are taken." He pats the kids back and they both start walking for the Homestead.

"So what's your name?" Newt asks after a few short seconds of silence.  
"What?" The kid asks as if he were completely zoned out.   
"Your name. C'mon I know you know that much."  
"Why is that all I remember?" The kid asks.  
"Did you listen to anything I said back there, Greenie? No more questions. I ask the questions, and I asked for your bloody name. Now tell me, shank."   
"Who put you in charge?" The kid says but there's no threat behind it.  
"Okay first off, that's another question, and I should whack your head in with my rake for that, but I won't, because I like you. I'm second in command due to seniority. I've been here second longest, so it makes sense." 

The kid seems to only get one thing out of Newt's explanation.   
"You like me?" He looks at Newt.   
"Well...sure. You're different than the other Greenie's. Usually it's a lot of klunking and crying when they first get here. But you? Nope. Just wanna get straight to the point. I like that."   
Newt blushes slightly at his confession and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the kid had broken out into a smile. 

"So the name?" He says, nudging the lad in the side with his elbow, knocking him a little off as they walk.  
"Thomas." The kid, Thomas, says.   
"Thomas." Newt repeats.   
"And you're Newt?"  
"I am Newt." Newt smiles up at Thomas. 

The boys are just about to the Homestead when someone in the house screams. Both boys jumped, startled at the sudden, loud noise and Newt groans.   
"Shuck it! Can't the bloody Med-jacks handle that boy for ten minuets without needin' my help?!"   
Newt taps Thomas's foot with his and then his eyes widen, knowing Thomas shouldn't be this close to the Homestead while Ben's in there all green and gross. He takes Thomas and turns him around, shoving him off.  
"Find Chuckie, tell him he's in charge of your sleeping arrangements."   
"Wait, where are you going?"   
Newt shoved him off again with a laugh.   
"That's the last question you can ask, Greenie. One more and I'll be gettin' my rake for sure."  
Thomas half smiles at Newt and starts to walk off.  
"Little chubby kid with curly hair, he'll help you out. I'll find you later!" Newt shouts after him and make his way into the Homestead, leaving Thomas to find Chuck on his own.


	3. Chapter Three

-Thomas-  
Thomas did as Newt asked and went on his way to find Chuck. He kinda wished he could've gone wherever that Newt kid was going. It's seems like he's much more friendly than any of the other boys here. He would much rather Newt show him around this place than Alby or even this Chuck guy. As he walks back to the tree, he turns around, walking backwards so he can watch the house. A group of boys milled around outside, glancing anxiously at the upper windows as if expecting a hideous beast to leap out in an explosion of glass and wood. 

Thomas reaches the tree again and he hears a metallic clicking sound. He turns around and looks up. A flash of sliver and red light catches his eye just before it disappears around the trunk on the other side. Thomas walks around the tree, craning his neck for a sign of whatever he'd heard, but he saw only bare branches, gray and brown, forking out like skeleton fingers- and looking just as alive. 

"That was one of the beetle blades.", someone says. Thomas turned to his right to see a kid standing nearby, short and pudgy, staring at him. He was young- probably the youngest of any in the group he's seen so far, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. His brown hair hung down over his ears and neck, scraping the tips of his shoulders. Blue eyes shone through an otherwise pitiful face, flabby and flushed. 

Thomas nodded at him.  
"A beetle what?"  
"Bettle blade," the boy said, pointing to the top of the tree. "Won't hurt ya, unless you're stupid enough to touch one of them." The kid paused before he added, "shank." He didn't sound comfortable saying it, as if, even to him, it was odd.

Another scream, this one long and nerve-grinding, tore through the air and Thomas's heart lurched. The fear was like icy dew on his skin.  
"What's going on in there?" He asked, pointing at the building.   
"Don't know," the chubby boy replied; his voice still carried the high pitch of childhood. "Ben's in there, sicker than a dog. They got him."

"They?" Thomas didn't like the malicious way the boy had said the word.   
"Yeah."  
"Who are they?"   
"Better hope you never find out," the kid answered, looking far too comfortable with the situation. He held out his hand.   
"My name's Chuck. I was the Greanbean until you showed up." 

'This is my guide for the night?' Thomas thought. He couldn't shake his extreme discomfort, and now annoyance crept in as well. Nothing made sense; his head hurt. He would much rather that Newt guy show him around and get him settled in. This kid seems to mean well, he just doesn't seem to know as much. 

"Why is everyone calling me Greenbean?" He asked, shaking Chuck's hand quickly, then letting go.  
"Cuz you're the newest Newbie." Chuck pointed at Thomas and laughed. Another scream came from the house, a sound like a starving animal being tortured. 

"How can you be laughing?" Thomas asked, horrified by the noise.   
"It sounds like someone's dying in there."  
"He'll be okay. No one dies if they make it back in time to get the Serum. It's all or nothing. Dead or not dead. Just hurts a lot."   
This made Thomas pause. "What hurts a lot?"  
Chuck's eyes wandered as if he wasn't sure what to say.   
"Um, gettin' stung by the Grievers."  
"Grievers?" Thomas was only getting more and more confused. Stung. Grievers. The words had a heavy weight of dread to them, and he suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to know what Chuck was talking about.

Chuck shrugged, then looked away, eyes rolling. Thomas sighed in frustration and leaned back against the tree.   
"Looks like you barely know more than I do," he said, but he knew it wasn't true. His memory loss was strange. He mostly remembered the working of the world- but emptied of specifics, faces, names. Like a book completely intact but missing one word in every dozen, making it a miserable and confusing read. He didn't even know his own age. 

"Chuck, how...old do you think I am?"  
The boy scanned him up and down.   
"I'd say you're sixteen, but don't count on my guess, Newt and Alby are better at that than I am."   
Thomas was stunned. Sixteen? He was sixteen? He felt much older than that.   
"Are you serious?" He paused, searching for words.  
"How..." He didn't even know what to ask.  
"Don't worry. You'll be all whacked for a few days, but then you'll get used to this place. I have. We live here, this is it. Better than living in a pile of klunk." He squinted, maybe anticipated Thomas's question.   
"Klunk is another word for poo. Poo makes a klunk sound when it falls in our pee pots." 

Thomas looked at Chuck, unable to believe he was having this conversation.   
"That's nice," was all he could manage. He stood up and walked past Chuck towards the old building; shack was a better word for it. It looked three or four stories high and about to fall down at and minuet- a crazy assortment of logs and boards and thick twine and windows seemingly thrown together at random, the massive, ivy-strewn stone walls rising up behind it. As he moved across the courtyard, the district smell of firewood and some kind of meat cooking made his stomach grumble. Knowing now that it was just a sick kid doing the screaming made Thomas feel better. Until he thought about what had cause it...

"What's your name?" Chuck asked from behind, running to catch up.  
"Thomas." He answered just as he did when Newt had asked. But it made him ask himself, why do they all know their first names. Newt knew he would know it, and no so did Chuck. Why only their names? Why not their last names? Why not their parents names?   
"Nice to meet you, Thomas." Chuck said.  
"Don't you worry, I'll take care of you. I've been here a whole month, and I know the place inside and out. You can count on Chuck, okay?" 

Thomas had almost reached the door of the shack and the small group of boys congregated there when he was hit by a sudden and surprise rush of anger. He turned to face Chuck.  
"You can't even tell me anything. I wouldn't call that taking care of me." He turned back towards the door, intent on going inside to find some answers. Maybe to find Newt. That guy seems like the only nice one here and the only one willing to at least listen to him, even if he did threaten to beat Thomas with a rake.   
Where this sudden courage and resolve came from, he had no idea. 

Chuck shrugged.   
"Nothin' I say'll do you any good," he said.   
"I'm basically still a Newbie, too. But I can be your friend-"  
I don't need friends," Thomas interrupted.   
He'd reached the door, an ugly slab of sun-fades wood, and he pulled it open to see several stoic-faced boys standing at the door of a veiled staircase, the steps and railing twisted and angled in all directions. Dark wallpaper covered walls of the foyer and hallway, half of it peeling off. The only decorations in sight were a dusty vase on a three-legged table and a black-and-white picture of an ancient woman dressed in an old-fashioned white dress. It reminded Thomas of a haunted house from a movie or something. There were even planks of wood missing from the floor. 

The place reeked of dust and mildew- a big contrast to the pleasant smell outside. Flickering fluorescent lights shone from the ceiling. He hadn't thought of it yet, be he had wondered where the electricity came from in a place like the Glade. He stared at the old woman in the picture. Had she lived there once? Taken care of these people? 

"Hey look, it's Greenbean," one if the older boys called out. With a start, Thomas realized it was the black-haired guy who'd given him the look of death earlier. He looks like he was fifteen or so, tall and skinny. His nose was the size of a small fist and resembled a deformed potato.   
"This shank probably klunked his pants when he heard old Benny baby scream like a girl. Need a new diaper, shuck-face?" 

"My name's Thomas." He had to get away from this guy. Without another word, he made for the stairs, only because they were close, only because he had no idea what to do or say. But the bully stepped in front of him, holding a hand up.   
"Hold up there, Greenie." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the upper floor.  
"Newbies aren't allowed to see someone who's been...taken. Newt and Alby won't allow it."  
"Newt's up there?" Thomas asked without thought.   
"Oooh! I see how it is!" The bully says with a laugh and some of the other boys join him.   
"You fancy yourself a little Newt?" He laughs and poked Thomas's chest.   
Thomas shrugged him off.  
"What's your problem?" Thomas asks and ignore the question, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, trying to figure out why the bully would ask about Newt like that. Thomas just met him. 

"Listen to me, Greenbean." The boy wrinkled up his face, folding his arms.   
"I've seen you before. Something's fishy about you showing up here, and I'm gonna find out what."  
A surge of heat pulsed through Thomas's veins.   
"I've never seen you before in my life. I have no idea who you are, and I couldn't care less." He spat. But really, how would he know? And how could this kid remember him?

The bully scoffed, a short burst of a laugh mixed with a phlegm-filled snort. Then his face grew serious, his eyebrows slanting inwards.   
"I've...seen you, shank. Not too many in these parts can say they've been stung." He pointed upstairs. "I have. I know what Benny baby's going through. I've been there. And I saw you durning the Changing."  
He reached out and poked Thomas in the chest again.   
"And I bet your first meal from Frypan that Benny'll say he's seen ya, too."

Thomas refused to break eye contact but decided to say nothing. Panic ate at him once again. Would things ever stop getting worse?   
"Griever got ya wettin' yourself?" The boy asked through a sneer.  
"A little scared now? Don't wanna get stung, do ya?"   
There was that word again. Stung. Thomas tried not to think about it and pointed up the stairs, from where the moans of the sick kid echoed through the building.   
"If Newt went up there, than I wanna talk to him."  
The boy smiled evilly.   
"So you do have a soft spot for old Newtie."  
"I never said that."  
"You never denied it."  
"Look why would it matter if I did? I don't know they guy! I know none of you! I've been here half a day and I don't even know what'sgoing on! All I want to do is talk to someone about whatever the hell is going on here and he seems to be the nicest out of all of you ass holes! So yes, I have a soft spot for him. Because he's been kind to me and you lot are all dicks!" 

The boy said nothing, stared at Thomas for several seconds. The he shook his head.   
"You know what? You're right, I shouldn't be so mean to Newbies. Go on upstairs and I'm sure Alby and Newt'll fill you in. Seriously, go on. I'm sorry."  
He lightly tapped Thomas's shoulder, then stepped back, gesturing up the stairs. But Thomas knew the kid was up to something. Losing parts of your memory didn't make you an idiot.

"What's your name?" Thomas asked, stalling for time while he tries to decide if he should go up after all.  
"Gally. And don't let anyone fool you. I'm the real leader here, not those two geezer shanks upstairs. Me. You can call me Captain Gally if you want." He smiled for the first time; his teeth matches his disgusting nose. Two or three were missing, and not a single one approached anything close to the color white.   
"Okay." He said, so sick of this guy he wanted to scream, punch him in the face.   
"Captain Gally it is." He said with heavy sarcasm and a fake salute, feeling a rush of adrenaline, as he knew he's just crossed the line. 

A few snickers escaped the crowd, and Gally looked around, his face bright red. He peered back at Thomas, hatred furrowing his brow and crinkling his monstrous nose.   
"Just go upstairs. And stay away from me, you little slinthead." He pointed up against but didn't take his eyes off Thomas.   
"Fine." Thomas looked around one more time, embarrassed, confused, angry. He felt the heat of blood in his face. No one made a move to stop him from going as Gally asked, except Chuck, who stood at the front door, shaking his head.   
"You're not supposed to," the younger boy said. "You're a Newbie- you can't go up there."  
"Go," said Gally with a sneer. "Go on up."   
Thomas regretted having come inside in the first place- but he did want to talk to Newt...and he did want to know why this Ben kid was so sick.

He started up the stairs. Each step groaned and creaked under his weight; he might've stopped for fear of falling through the old wood if he weren't leaving such an awkward situation below. Up he went, wincing at every splintering sound. The stairs reached a landing, turned left, than came upon a railed hallway leading into several rooms. Only one door had a light coming through the crack at the bottom.  
"The Changing!" Gally shouted from below. "Look forward to it, shuck-face!"

As if the taunting gave Thomas a sudden burst of courage, he walked over to the lit door, ignoring the creaking floor boards and laughter downstairs- ignoring the onslaught of words he didn't understand, suppressing the dreadful feelings they induced. He reached down, turned the brass handle, and opened the door. Inside the room, Newt and Alby crouched over someone lying in a bed. Thomas leaned in closer to see what the fuss was all about, but when he got a clear look at the condition of the patient, his heart went cold. He had to fight the bile that surged up his throat. 

The look was fast- only a few seconds- but it was enough to haunt him forever. A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy's body and limbs, like ropes under the skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth. The image had already burned into Thomas's mind before someone jumped in front of him, blocking his view and pushing him out of the room, then slamming the door behind them.   
"What are you doing up here! I told you to find Chuck!" Newt half shouts at Thomas.   
Thomas felt weak.  
"I....uh...want some answers." He murmured, but he couldn't put any strength in his words- felt himself give up inside. What was wrong with that kid? Thomas slouched against the railing in the hallway and stared at the floor, not sure what to do next.

"I bloody told you! No good answers for you yet. I threatened you with my rake and everythin'!" Newt half laughs.   
Thomas huffed out a half fake, half nervous laugh and his eyes don't leave the ground.   
"Listen Greenie, you'll get your chance.. You'll have your answers, just not now. Alby will take you out tomorrow, show you around, then you can ask all your bloody question. But that's tomorrow, and right now, I'm in charge of ya. So get your shank-head self back down stairs before Alby lets Ben free and he bloody attacks you." 

Thomas nods and still stares at the floor. Newt sighs and nudges his shoulder.  
"You'll be alright, I swear it. Scared the klunk out of me too. But Ben'll be fine. Now go before I push you down the stairs myself. I'll find you and Chuckie after, yeah?" 

Thomas was humiliated and scared. He felt like he'd shrunk to the size of a small rat. Without saying a word, he turned away from Newt and headed down the creaky steps, going as fast as he dared. Ignoring the gaping stares of everyone at the bottom- especially Gally- he walked out the door, pulling Chuck by the arm as he did so.

Thomas hates these people. He hates all of them. Except Newt, and probably Chuck too.   
"Get me away from these guys," Thomas said.  
"You got it," Chuck replied, his voice chipper, as if thrilled to be needed. "But first we should get you some food from Frypan."  
"I don't know if I can ever eat again."  
Not after what he'd just seen. Chuck nodded.  
"Yeah, you will. I'll meet you against the same tree as before. Ten minuets."

Thomas was more than happy to get away from the house, and headed back towards the tree. He'd only known what it was like to be alive here for a short while and he already wanted it to end. He wishes for all the world he could remember something about his previous life. Anything. His mom, his dad, and friend, his school, a hobby, a girl. A....a boy? That thought sent something unknown into Thomas's stomach, but it wasn't a bad feeling. It was...an excited feeling? A happy feeling? 

He blinked hard several times, trying to get the image of what he'd just seen in the shack out of his mind.  
The Changing. Gally had called it the Changing. It wasn't cold, but Thomas shuddered once again.

-Newt-

Newt watched as Thomas hurries down the steps, getting out as quickly as possible. He turned back into the room to find Alby literally on top of Ben, holding him down.  
"What was he doing here?!" Alby shouts as Newt starts to hold Ben's arms down.   
"He wanted answers!" Newt says as he huffs, struggling with Ben's arms. Ben is stronger than he looks.  
"Shank Newbie! Already told him! He needs to get his head on straight!"  
"I don't know! I kinda like how he already wants to know!"  
"Well aren't you smitten!"  
"W-what?" Newt falters and Ben gets an arm free, whacking Alby dead in the face before Newt can get control of the limb again.  
"I'm n-not...I just met him!"  
"Little Newt all gushy over the Greanbean!"  
"Don't be a slinthead!" Newt yells at Alby.   
"Pretty soon you two could be sneaking off just like me and Gally!"  
"No offense mate, but I'm not in the market for whatever it is you and Gally have."   
Alby rolls his eyes and they stay silent, grunting and huffing over Ben, trying to keep him in the bed.

Could...could Alby be right? Could Newt have...feeling for the new kid? I mean...Thomas isn't ugly, not at all. But Newt...Newt's never been with any one before! He isn't sure how to do it! And he isn't even sure what liking someone feels like! But he does know one thing...he favors Thomas. Over all other Greenbeans, he's been Newt's favorite. But...but does he like him? He isn't sure.


	4. Chapter Four

-Thomas-

Thomas leaned against the tree as he waited for Chuck. He scanned the compound of the Glade, this new place of nightmares where he seemed destined to live. The shadows from the walls had lengthened considerably, already creeping up the sides of the ivy-covered stone faces on the other side. 

At least this helped Thomas know directions- the wooden building crouched in the northwest corner, wedged in a darkening patch of shadow, the grove of trees in the southwest. The farm area, where a few workers were still picking their way through the fields, spread across the entire northeast quarter of the Glade. The animals were in the southeast corner, mooing and crowing and baying. 

In the exact middle of the courtyard, the still-gaping hole of the Box lay open, as if inviting him to jump back in and go home. Near that, maybe twenty feet to the south, stood a squat building made of rough concrete blocks, a menacing iron door it's only entrance- there were no windows. A large round handle resembling a steel steering wheel marked the only way to open the door, just like something within a submarine. Despite what he'd just seen, Thomas didn't know which he felt more strongly- curiosity to know what was inside, or dread of finding out. 

Thomas had just moved his attention to the four giant openings in the middle of the main walls of the Glade when Chuck arrived. He was cradling a few sandwiches in his arms, along with some apples and two cups of water. Thomas didn't notice at first, but walking only steps behind Chuck was Newt- carrying the same food items Chuck had. The sense of relief that flooded though Thomas surprised him- he wasn't completely alone in this place. 

"Frypan wasn't too happy about us invading his kitchen before suppertime." Newt said, sitting down next to the tree, motioning to Thomas to do that same. Chuck sat down on the other side of Thomas so Thomas was in between the two. Chuck offered Thomas a sandwich and Thomas took it, but hesitated, the writhing, monstrous image of what he'd seen in the shack popping back into his mind. Soon, though, his hunger won out and he took a huge bite. The wonderful taste of Ham and cheese and mayonnaise filled his mouth.

"Ah,man," Thomas mumbled through a mouthful. "I was starving."  
"Told ya." Chuck chomped into his own sandwich. The boys ate in silence, Thomas occasionally glancing at the walls, staring at the large gaping holes that looked like an exit. Thomas glanced at Newt and caught him staring at him. The second Thomas's eyes met Newt's, Newt quickly turned forward again. Newt looked as if he was confused and his cheeks were flushes from getting caught.   
"I saw that." Thomas joked and sees Newt's cheeks flush even more.  
"S-sorry." Newt's voice sounds small and it almost startled Thomas. Thomas was about to make a joke about how it's only natural for Newt to stare at such a beauty, but then he remembered, he doesn't even know what he looks like.   
"Newt? What do I look like?" Thomas asks. Newt looks up at him again and his eyes glance over Thomas's face.  
"You aren't ugly, I do know that. You've got dark hair- Tall, some freckles, brown eyes. Cute." Newt shrugs and returns to his sand which.   
"Cute?" Thomas scoffs.   
"Don't make me regret that." Newt smiles. 

The silence returns and the boys continue eating. After a couple bites, Thomas finally asks the question that has been bothering him.  
"What's exactly wrong with that Ben guy? He doesn't look human anymore." He turns to Newt, expecting an answer, but Chuck is the one who speaks up.   
"Don't really know, I didn't see him." 

Thomas could tell the boy was being less than honest but decided not to press him.   
"Well, you don't want to see him, trust me." He continued to eat, munching on the apples as he studied the huge breaks in the walls again. Though it was hard to make out from where he sat, there was something odd about the stone edges of the exits to the outside corridors. He felt an uncomfortable sense of vertigo looking at the towering walls, as if he hovered above them instead of sitting at their base.   
"What's out there?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Is this part of a huge castle or something?" Again he turns to Newt, but the boy only glances at him and bites his sandwich again. Thomas raises his eyebrows at him and Newt shrugs.   
"I believe I've threatened you with that rake twice now? Wanna make it a third?" 

Thomas turns to Chuck instead, waiting for an answer.   
"Um, I've never been outside the Glade."  
Thomas paused. "You're hiding something." He finally replied, finishing off his last bite and taking a long swig of water. The frustration of getting no answers from anyone was starting to grind his nerves. It only made it worse to think that even if he did get answers, he wouldn't know if he'd be getting the truth.  
"Why are you guys so secretive?" He asks.

Newt answers this time.  
"That's just the way it is. Things are really weird around here, and most of the guys don't know everything. Don't know half of everything."   
It bothered Thomas that Newt didn't seem to care about what he just said. That he seemed indifferent to having his life taken away from him. What was wrong with these people? Thomas got to his feet and started walking towards the eastern opening.   
"Well no one said I couldn't look around."  
He needed to learn something or he was going to lose his mind. 

"Whoa, wait!" Newt cried, struggling to his feet to run after and catch up to Thomas. Chuck followed closely behind.   
"Be carful." Newt said. "Those puppies are about to close."   
"Close?" Thomas repeated. "What are you talking about?"  
"The Doors, you shank!"  
"Doors? I don't see any doors." Thomas knew Newt wasn't just making stuff up- he knew he was missing something obvious. He felt uneasy and slowed his pace, not so eager to reach the walls anymore. 

"What do you call those big opening?" Newt pointed up at the enormously tall gaps in the walls. They were only thirty feet away now.   
"I'd call them big openings!" Thomas said, trying to counter his discomfort with sarcasm and disappointment that it wasn't working.   
"Well, they're doors. And they close up every night." 

Thomas stopped, thinking Newt had to have something wrong. But...Newt seemed to be the only one right here...but what he was saying is crazy. He looked up, looking side to side, examined the massive slabs of stone as the uneasy feeling blossomed into outright dread.   
"What do you mean, they close?"  
Newt sighed as they continued walking.  
"You'll see for yourself in a minute. The Runners'll be back soon; then those big walls are going to move until the gaps are closed."  
"You're jacked in the head." Thomas muttered. He couldn't see how the mammoth walls could possibly be mobile- felt so sure of it he relaxed, thinking maybe Newt was playing a trick on him. 

They reached the huge split that led outside to more stone pathways. Thomas gaped, his mind emptying of thoughts as he saw it first hand.   
"This is called the East Door." Chuck spoke up for the first time. Thomas barely heard him, shocked by how much bigger it was up close- at least twenty feet across, the break in the wall went all the way to the top, far above. The edges that bordered the vast opening were smooth, except for one odd, repeating pattern in both sides. On the left side of the Door, foot-long rods jutted out from the wall edge, also several inches in diameter, in the same pattern as the holes facing them on the other side. The purpose was obvious.

"Are you kidding me?" Thomas asked, the dread slamming back into his gut. "You weren't playing with me? The walls really move?" He turns back to look at Newt.   
"You keep asking for answers, so I decided to give you one. What else would I have bloody meant?"  
Thomas had a hard time wrapping his mind around the possibility.   
"I don't know. I figured there was a door that swung shut or a little mini-wall that slid out of the big one." He looks over to Chuck. "How could these walls move? They're huge, and they look like they've been standing here for a thousand years."   
And the idea of those walls closing and trapping him inside this place they called the Glade was downright terrifying. 

Chuck threw his arms up, clearly frustrated.  
"I don't know, they just move. Makes one heck of a grinding noise. Same thing happens out in the Maze- those walls shift every night, too."  
Thomas, his attention suddenly snapped up by a new detail, turned to face the younger boy. "What did you just say?"  
Newt turns to Chuck and shoot him a look. Chuck looks up at Newt with a frightened face- he knew he was in trouble.   
"Chuck, why don't you go get a sleeping bag and get settled in before someone talks to Frypan about your food portions for the next week."

Chuck runs off without a word, leaving Newt and Thomas alone. Thomas gaped and Newt, wanted answers even more.  
"A maze?"  
"Yes."  
"He called it a maze."  
"He did."   
Thomas turned back to the opening, more interested than ever in the outside of the Glade. A maze? In front of him, through the East Door, he could make out passages leading to the left, to the right, and straight ahead. And the walls of the corridors were similar to those that surrounded the Galde, the ground made of the same massive stone blocks as in the courtyard. The ivy seemed even thicket out there. In the distance, more breaks in the walls led to other parts, and further down, maybe a hundred yards or so away, the straight passage came to a dead end. 

"Looks like a maze." Thomas whispered, almost laughing to himself. As if things couldn't have gotten any stranger. They'd wiped his memory and put him in a gigantic maze. It was all so crazy it really didn't seem funny. 

His heart skipped a beat when a boy unexpectedly appeared around the corner up ahead, entering the main passage from one of the offshoots to the right, running towards him and the Glade. Covered in sweat, his face red, clothes sticking to his body, the boy didn't slow, hardly glancing at Thomas as he went past. Newt raised a fist to the boy and he bumped it as he ran, headed straight for the squat concrete building located near the Box. 

Thomas turned as he passed, his eyes riveted to the exhausted runner, unsure why this new development surprised him so much. Why wouldn't people go out and search the maze? Then he realized others we're entering through the remaining three Glade openings, all of them running and looking as tired as the guy who just whisked by him. There couldn't be much good about the made if these guys came back looking so weary and worn. 

He watched, curious, as they met at the big iron door of the small building; one of the boys turned the rusty wheel handle, grunting with the effort. Newt had said something about the Runners earlier. What had they been doing out there? 

The big door finally popped open, and with a deafening squeal of metal against metal, the boys swung it wide. They disappeared inside, pulling it shut behind them with a loud clonk. Thomas stared, his mind churning to come up with any possible explanation for what he just witnessed. Nothing developed, but something about that creepy old building gave him goose bumps, a disquieting chill. 

Someone tugged on his sleeve, breaking him from his thoughts. Newt had been trying to get his attention since that guy ran into the maze. 

Before Thomas had a chance to think, questions were rushing out of his mouth.   
"Who were those guys and what were they doing? What's in that building?"  
He wheeled around and pointed at the East Door.   
"And why do you live inside a freaking maze?" He felt a rattling pressure of uncertainty, making his head splinter with pain. 

"I'm not saying another word and you aren't asking anymore questions." Newt said, he sounded half annoyed but Thomas was pretty sure it wasn't aimed at him.  
"Alby could skin me and Chuck for letting slip that it's a maze. That's all I can give ya. Tomorrow Alby will give you the spill. But until then, just breathe a little." He patted Thomas's back but none of what he said made Thomas feel any better. 

Thomas was about to ask another question when Newt raised his hand up, stopping him.   
"It's about to happen."  
"What?" Thomas asked. A loud boom exploded through the air, making Thomas Jump. It was followed by a horrible crunching, grinding sound. He stumbled backwards, fell to the ground. It felt as if the whole Earth shook; he looked around, panicked: the walls were closing. The walls were really closing- trapping them inside the Glade. And a rushing sense of claustrophobia stifled him, compressing his lungs, as if water filled their cavities. 

"No need to be scared, Greenie! It's just the walls!" Newt shouted over the sound. Thomas barely heard him, too fascinated, too shakes by the closing of the Doors. He scrambled to his feet and took a few trembling steps back for a better view, finding it hard to believe what his eyes were seeing. 

The enormous stone wall to the right of them seemed to defy every known law of physics as it slid along the ground, throwing sparks and dust as it moved, rock against rock. The crunching sound rattled his bones. Thomas realized that only that wall was moving, heading for its neighbor to the left, ready to seal shut with its protruding rods slipping into the drilled holes across from it. He looked around at the other openings. It felt like his head was spinning faster than his body, and his stomach flipped over with dizziness. On all four sides of the Glade, only the right walls were moving, towards the left, closing the gap of the Doors. 

Impossible, he thought. How can they do that? He fought the urge to run out there; slip past the moving slabs of rock before they shut, flee the Glade. Common sense won out- the maze held even more unknowns that his situation inside. 

He tried to picture in his mind how the structure of it all worked. Massive walls, hundreds of feet high, moving like sliding glass doors- an image from his last life that flashes through his thoughts. He tried to grasp the memory, hold on to it, the picture with faces, names, a place, but it fades into obscurity. A pang of sadness pricked through his other swirling emotions. 

He watched as the right walls reached the end of its journey, it's connecting rods finding their mark and entering without a glitch. An echoing boom rumbled across the Glade as all four Doors sealed shut for the night. Thomas felt one final moment of trepidation, a quick slice of fear through his body, and then It vanished. 

A surprising sense of calm eased his nerves; he let out a long sigh of relief.   
"Wow," he said, feeling dumb at such a monumental understatement.   
"Ain't even a big deal. You'll get used to it." Newt smiled.   
Thomas looked around one more time, the feeling of the place completely different now that all the walls were solid with no way out. He tried to imagine the purpose of such a thing, and he didn't know which guess was worse- that they were being sealed in or that they were being protected from something out there. The thought ended his brief moment of calm, sitting in his mind a million possibilities of what might live in the maze outside, all of them terrifying. Fear gripped him once again. 

"Alright Greenie, bed time. You'll want to rest up before tomorrow. You'll have all your bloody questions answered, I swear it."   
Newt started walking for the homestead and Thomas followed close behind.


End file.
